


Crawling In My Felty Skin

by NaturallyDark



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Crack, M/M, Parody, clover bashing because he gets in the way of my otp!!, he basically deserves it though so it's okay, i listened to evanescence while i was writing this so i could channel the goth energy, this is a really serious fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23258593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaturallyDark/pseuds/NaturallyDark
Summary: A darker and more realistic take on the Felt that asks the question we've all been wondering deep inside our ebony-coloured hearts: what if the Felt were goth?
Relationships: Biscuits/Eggs (Homestuck), Crowbar/Die (Homestuck), Doze/Itchy (Homestuck), Fin/Trace (Homestuck)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Crawling In My Felty Skin

A pessimistic rain crashed down over Midnight City like a waterfall of tears. The entire planet felt a depressing misery due to this. Fin sat in a black leather chair in the Felt Mansion, stroking a hand despairingly down a window. He is wearing a black tank top that said ‘Bite me’ along with tight black booty shorts and fishnet tights, because even a woebegone fish man can look sexy. 

Then Trace walked up to him, wearing his black and rainbow zebra-printed hair draped over one eye so you could only see one of them. “Hey babe,” he claimed mournfully. “What are you doing here?”

Fin bit his lips and choked back tears. “Oh nothin’ much,” he revealed, “Ah’m jes’ lookin’ at th’ future trails and even though Ah’ see ev’ry trail of ev’ry person an’ th’ orange’s almos’ as sickenin’ as th’ awful puke green ev’rywhere, Ah’ jes’ saw th’ end ‘f yer trail.” The pool shark’s eyes become closed and a single tear streaks his mascara everywhere. “Yer gonna die righ’ here som’ day in th’ fut’re.”

“Haha,” Trace sobbed, “I can’t understand a word of what you just said. I love you sweaty.”

A speedy black zoom speeds past, which was Itchy. Itchy isn’t really running, though, unless you count him running from all of his mistakes. No, he just had the power of being faster than everyone else, which sounds like a blessing but really it’s a curse. From his perspective, the skinny 5’1 man is going at normal speed but all of his friends are moving in slow-motion. He tries to talk to them all the time, but whenever he does he tragically sounds like Metallica nightcore and nobody can understand him. He is very melancholy about this.

Itchy then saw his husband Doze, who looked like he was falling from being tripped and who was also wearing black pumps and an oversized raven-coloured sweater that went down to his knees. He had the opposite problem, which was that he was permanently slower than everyone. The gold-hatted leprechaun mobster therefore was never able to talk to the nerdy puppet gangster, but they were in love and married. Nobody understood their relationship, but they didn’t have to because their emotions were so strong. Doze was still falling from when Itchy tripped him two days ago, which is a prank and one of the parts of leprechaun romance.

“Hi-ho cheerio pip pip!” bleated Clover as he tap-danced into the room. Everyone sighed and rolled their eyes. What a slut. Nobody liked Clover because he was a homewrecker and he wore an annoying green suit instead of something normal, like a dark hoodie and black skinny jeans. 

“Hello, me old chums!” capitulated the very horny purple munchkin, doing a dab. “Would anyone care to be so kind as to perhaps have a jolly old time and cut a rug with me if you know what I’m saying?”

Then Crowbar breaks down the door with his trusty crowbar and urges, “Nobody wants to dance with you because you’re a crusty buttonhole, now get out of here and go do something useful like joining over to the Midnight Crew, maybe then someone will love you.” Oh-Seven had a thick Polish accent, which is way hotter than a Russian accent and basically everyone in the world knew that, except Clover who just has really bad taste in general.

Clover lugubriously paraded away and everyone cheered. Die stared in crestfallen awe at Crowbar, but then quickly averts his gaze when he felt his cheeks start to blush bright red. The beanpole could do voodoo magic using his doll and will usually torture anyone he didn’t like by sticking their pin in the doll to hurt them brutally, but the third-in-command is someone he would never do that to. He doesn’t know why, but every time he looks at their fearless leader, his cold and dead heart starts to pound against his skinny ribcage like it’s trying to escape its prison. He just can’t understand what’s making him feel this way. He must be broken in more ways than one.

The maroon-hatted man lunged over to Die, his black faux fur trenchcoat flapping grimly in the wind, and takes the chicken man’s chin in his muscular fingers. “Oh Die, I’ve always had feelings for you,” he exacerbates. “Ever since Snowman became a pastel goth, I’ve been looking for someone who really conceives of me, and I’ve never met someone else who loves Black Veil Brides as much as I do.” He points to Die’s skin-tight ripped t-shirt, which is a Black Veil Brides t-shirt.

“Crowbar-senpai…” Die drawled, his bright green orbs overflowing with tears. Then they kissed and had a tongue quarrel.

“Hey, I feel like we’re missing someone,” Trace theorized. Just then, the door opened and Eggs and Biscuits walk in, wearing matching inky Victorian dresses except the male version, and they each had fingerless biker gloves. A lot of people thought they were stupid, but they were really just misunderstood. If anything, Clover is the stupid one.

“Hi everyone,” Biscuits concluded in a deep and soulful tone of voice.

“What’s going on in here?” Eggs agreed, holding Biscuit’s hand.

“Ah’ve jes’ learn’d mah love, Trahce, ‘s gon’ die,” Fin bellowed unhappily.

“When you really think about it, we all are going to die. Like the flower that blooms and wilts, beauty is a precious and fleeting thing that can never last. The important thing is to shine from the depths of your soul to imagine a future brighter than the stars at night, and you will never feel despair. Therefore, love is the most important thing,” replied Eggs.

Everyone was astonished by Egg’s wisdom and they all nodded in agreement, even feeling a little less on a downer despite the fact that it was still raining strongly.

“I think he’s right,” said Itchy, but he forgot that nobody could hear him and he cried.

Then Mr. Boomerang turned on the music and it was industrial metalstep so they all had a rave dance party right there in the mansion, except one time Clover sneaked in to change the music to Taylor Swift! They kicked him out and he had to stand out in the rain after that so he could learn his lesson.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the mansion, someone was scrutinizingly monitoring all the Felt with a sinister smile. It was Doc Scratch, except his mind got taken over by a Horrorterror so now his suit was all black with harsh red accents and he changed his name to DEATH Scratch, and he also had a really creepy mouth with sharp bloody teeth.

“Excellent,” the slender man extrapolated, “all according to my plans.” Then he chuckled darkly in a way that didn’t sound quite human.

To be continued...


End file.
